


And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves

by frostysunflowers



Series: Tomorrow is another day [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Love, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slice of Life, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 22:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: As far as rewards for saving the universe go, they don't come much better than this.orThe continuing story of Tony's life during peacetime.





	And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> *to the tune of Backstreet Boys* Oh ma god I'm back again!
> 
> I just can't help myself, I really can't, the little thoughts and ideas just keep coming. So here is another 12000 (I swear to god I was aiming for like 7000) words of nothing but more mush and fluff and a bit of good ol' angst to warm your souls. 
> 
> I would advise reading the first two pieces in this series before going ahead with this. There are time jumps within this piece though nothing majorly different from the previous two, and I hope those instances are pretty self explanatory. 
> 
> Proof read terribly so please excuse errors, I do try!

Tony never tells anybody about what happened when he snapped his fingers. Never talks about how every piece of him, every inch of his being, every part of his very existence, was splintered and shredded into a hundred million pieces and scattered across the cosmos. Never mentions that he saw endless realities and timelines and universes, how for a short while he knew all of what is, what could be, what has been and what will ever be.

He never shares what he felt as he wielded the power of infinity in his hand; how he felt the collective hopes and prayers from all those around him sing out at once and wish for something better than this, wish for all the sorrow and pain to end. He never reveals how he felt the lingering agony of those who had been trapped in the soul stone, the cries of their disembodied spirits painted across the darkest parts of all time and reality, their voices screaming out louder than any other, their hurt and the pain of all those they left behind colliding in one single moment of pure glory that blazes through every single atom of the universe, of life, of _everything,_ demanding that this will not be the end, yelling that they will not go quietly into the night.

He never tells because all the words die on his tongue as he opens his eyes to Morgan and Peter, because he forgets all of what he saw the moment he sees their smiles, lets it all fade into nothing more than vague flashes of memory that linger somewhere in the back of his mind like a fading dream, never truly remembers that for one brief but impossible moment, he knew _everything._

Because it’s inconsequential to what he felt as he finally embraced his destiny, pressed his thumb and middle finger together and _prayed._

Because in the end, as he stared the inevitable in the face, as he rose up as Iron Man, as _Tony Stark_ , and shouldered the weight of fate itself, all he felt was _love._

A love that transcended everything; every possible life and future and reality that has, could and will exist somewhere, sometime; a love that _this_ Tony Stark would hold onto and fight for a million times over.

All the knowledge and power in the universe is nothing compared to the feeling of his children in his arms.

Tony Stark, the man who once had nothing, lives and dies a hundred thousand times, turns to stardust and tumbles through to the edge of forever and back again with a snap of his fingers.

Tony Stark, the man who saved the universe, finally gets to go home.

                                                                                                

* * *

 

''Oh for god’s sake,'' Tony rasps as he cracks open an eye. ''Why are you here?''

Quill smirks down at him. ''I had to come look for myself. The great and powerful Tony Stark,'' he chuckles and shakes his head, ''taken out by the common cold.''

''This isn’t the common cold,'' Tony moans. ''It’s pure death.''

''Hey, of the two of us, I actually know what that feels like,'' Quill retorts with a half-hearted kick to the bedframe. ''So show some sensitivity, you snotty asshole.''

He’s joking, Tony knows, but the half-assed attempt at humour leaves a strange feeling in the air.

''Yeah, well,'' he grunts, suddenly desperate to fix it, ''luckily for you, my fantastic self saved your celestial ass. Remember that? Wasn’t that long ago as I recall.''

 _''Half_ celestial.''

''Well that half celestial-ness would have come in real handy during the big showdown, just so you know.'' Tony mutters as he turns onto his side, groaning at the furious pounding inside his skull. ''What’s the point of being half human if you don’t get a boon or two?''

''Can of worms, Stark.''

''Oh, for - seriously?'' Tony snaps, thrashing around irritably under the covers. ''You’re the one who came in here and started - '' he stops as he sees the grin on Quill’s face. ''Ohh go _away,_ you oversized hoagie.''

''Play nice, you two.'' Steve reprimands casually as he enters the room, a tray carrying a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water balanced on his hand.

''Not you as well,'' Tony complains, yanking the covers up over his head. ''Seriously, what did I ever do to deserve this?''

''Pepper said you need to eat something,'' Steve says pleasantly.

''No.''

''You really want me to go back and tell her that?''

Tony whines again before submitting to a wave of wracking coughs that make his chest burn. An arm curls around his shoulders and pulls him into a sitting position and a glass of water is being pressed against his lips. He gulps down a couple of mouthfuls before falling back against Steve’s chest with a loud sigh.

''Are you alright?''

Tony peeks up into Steve’s concerned face and lets out an incoherent moan, drawing a small smile from the other man.

''N’aw,'' Quill coos and wiggles a finger at them. ''Don’t you two look cute.''

Tony’s snarky retort transforms into another heavy bout of coughing that has him gripping Steve’s arm with his own trembling one as his body quakes under the force of it.

''Jeez, Tony. You really sound terrible.''

''Looks it, too.''

Steve cocks an eyebrow at Quill who shrugs. ''What? He’s sick. Of course he looks terrible.''

Tony’s head lolls to the side as he listens to their exchange, the rattle in his chest obscenely loud in the room.

''Why did she send you?'' He flails his good hand pathetically at Steve.

''I don’t get sick, remember?''

''Hey!'' Quill beams, clearly ecstatic to have something in common with Captain America. ''Me neither!''

''Ugh,'' Tony closes his eyes. ''Just kill me now, _please - ''_

He pauses as a head pokes itself round the doorway.

''Uh, hi, M-Mister Stark,'' Peter says cautiously. ''Mr Rogers, Mr Star-Lord.''

''I just can’t with this kid,'' Quill jerks his head at the boy with a laugh.

Tony coughs harshly as he tries to sit up a little higher, squirming against Steve. ''Hey, Underoos. You okay?''

''Yeah, I, uh, just got here and Miss Pot – I _mean_ Mrs Stark said that you were sick.''

''Oh, yeah,'' Tony tries to go for a causal brushoff but the hoarseness of his throat makes it sound beyond feeble. ''You know it’s bad when you get Rogers for a nurse.'' He shoves weakly at the man in question who eases out from behind him, fluffing the pillows as he goes.

God, he hates this. Hates the gross sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, hates the claggy feeling in his nose and the razor blade sharpness of his throat and the weight in his aching chest. Tony had banished himself to the guest house the moment he’d felt the first tingle at the back of his nose; Pepper had protested at first but Tony had insisted, completely unwilling to put Morgan at risk of catching it too. Now, he wishes he’d asked Pepper to let Peter know to stay away too for the exact same reason.

''Probably should have just stayed at home this weekend, kiddo.'' Tony huffs, plucking his sweaty vest away from his glistening skin with a scowl.

''Oh.'' Peter’s face falls and Tony’s heart clenches horribly at the sight. ''I, uh – I can go I ju-just wanted to – I’ll just -''

''No, wait – Peter,'' Tony calls, but the kid quickly hurries out the door, closing it with an oddly polite _click._ ''Goddamnit.''

Quill moves to the bedroom window whilst Steve looks at Tony with concern. ''He’s not usually that timid.''

''No,'' Tony hisses as he tries to heave himself to the edge of the mattress. ''He’s been…struggling.''

Tony knows that Peter has always been a bit anxious, a bit low in self-esteem, but since coming back after the world ended, it seems so much worse. The kid is downright nervous and skittish, hovers on the edge of everything with a timorous aura that just makes Tony want to reach into Peter’s soul and remove whatever it is that makes the kid feel that way.

''He’s outside,'' Quill comments from his position by the window. ''He’s walking…walking, walking – oh, he’s talking to Rhodes,'' Quill mimics a hand gesture or two, ''Rhodes is patting his shoulder, Peter is pointing to the cars-''

''The cars?'' Tony chokes, pushing weakly against Steve as the man tries to force him back into bed. ''No – don’t let him leave!''

''I got it,'' Quill says and hurries out of the room whilst Tony continues to struggle pathetically in Steve’s firm grip.

''Seriously, Cap-''

''How is it you can still be this cantankerous when you’re this sick?'' Steve asks with a laugh, bracing himself against Tony as he collapses with more coughs that leave him nearly retching.

God, he _hates this._

''Peter will be okay, you know.''

''How do you know?'' Tony gasps, holding onto Steve’s forearms as he fights to get the air back into his traitorous lungs.

''He has you,'' Steve replies in a voice so full of certainty that Tony clutches his arms tight for an entirely different reason. 

 

* * *

 

Tony yelps and jabs his thumb into his mouth, sucking the stinging sensation out of the skin. Glaring at the culprit, a split blue wire, he lets out a growl and yanks a further mess of cables out of the console on his workbench.

''What are you doing?''

''Attacking this decrepit piece of junk with something pointy because it’s an asshole and I hate it.'' Tony grumbles, wielding a screwdriver with more force than necessary before clutching it between his teeth so he can use both hands to pry a panel away.

After a beat, he adds, ''Hey, Bluebell.''

There’s a snort behind him. ''Hello.''

The sound of wheels scraping along the floor fills the air, followed by excited mechanical chattering. Tony looks over his shoulder to see Dum-E cruise up to Nebula, arm bobbing up to loom close to her face, pincers flicking back and forth gently. Nebula nods at Dum-E as the bot whirs incessantly at her for a few moments. She mutters something in return and Tony watches in absolute astonishment as Dum-E beeps excitedly and pinches the fingers of his claw together in an affectionate move against Nebula’s shoulder.

''C-can you _understand_ him?''

Nebula turns her dark gaze over to him.

''Can’t you?''

''Let me rephrase,'' Tony says as he removes the screwdriver from his mouth and gestures with it. ''Can you _talk_ to him?''

Nebula frowns at him like he’s an idiot. Dum-E rotates to face his general direction and gives a distinctively defensive beep, earing an eyebrow raise from Tony.

''What’s the difference?''

''The difference is that he,'' Tony points at Dum-E as the bot retracts his arm back and tilts into the hand Nebula places above his claw, ''is a simple-minded bucket of bolts and you are…'' he pauses and chuckles, ''able to talk to robots. Unbelievable.'' He shakes his head. ‘'No ganging up on me now, you hear?.''

''He’s rather fond of you, you know.''

''Well I should hope so,'' Tony grouses, turning back to the mess of wires and throwing the screwdriver to the side. ''Someone’s gotta put up with his peculiarities.''

''I’d go as far as to say that he loves you.''

Tony looks over at the robot then, eyes shining with undeniable fondness as Dum-E flexes his claw, the screws on either side of the pincers looking remarkably like eyes, and chirps softly at Tony.

''Oh, you’re going with the puppy eyes, huh?''

Tony reaches over, thumb stroking the top of one of the pincers gently, much like one would rub the ear of a puppy. Dum-E somehow seems to melt into the touch, arm drooping, base lowering further onto his wheels and chirruping quietly.

''Good boy.''

He senses Nebula watching them and lifts his gaze as he grins at her.

''Want me to pet you too, Cornflower?''

He receives a glare lacking in any malice in return.

''That a yes?'' He teases and laughs as Nebula shoves him, fighting to hide her smirk.

Dum-E coos gently at Nebula and Tony watches as she pats him tenderly, robotic fingers making a pleasant _ting_ as they brush against the bot’s metal casing.

''You ever see the film Wall-E?'' Tony asks, already knowing the answer. ''That’s his favourite,'' he pauses to narrow his eyes critically at the bot before shrugging, ''though he likes watching the blender too but hey, who am I to judge?''

So they settle in to watch the movie, Tony against at the end of the couch with Nebula sitting beside him and Dum-E leaning over the arm to nudge insistently at him, LED lights flashing and happily trilling away as he recognises the images on the screen.

Tony relaxes into the cushions, one hand resting on Dum-E and the other lying close beside Nebula’s knee, not touching but still there, just in case. He smiles as Dum-E bobs up and down enthusiastically and feels a powerful surge of affection for this exasperatingly useless, funny, _brilliant_ thing that he created so long ago.

And if he sees Nebula tearing up a little when two robots fall in love as they dance across the stars, he doesn’t say a word.

But he does squeeze her fingers when she eventually grabs his hand.

 

* * *

 

Tony doesn’t exactly hide it from Peter.

But he doesn’t tell him either.

That was a mistake, he realises, as Peter turns his head away from the screen to look at him, his face displaying equal amounts of disbelief, horror, rage, distress.

Heartbreak.

Though most of the world had mourned greatly after the snap, there were those who did the complete opposite. They had rejoiced, celebrated, worshipped Thanos like a god for 'saving' the universe, for giving the world a chance to survive for longer, to never be hungry or fighting for survival again.

''It’s like the war all over again,'' Steve had whispered in the early days as they watched the endless news reports, voice haunted and face pinched with weary sorrow.

Tony had blistered with white hot fury at every single word he heard, had snarled his own hate at the screens as people spouted their sanctimonious bullshit, claiming that Thanos was a hero, that he had acted in the best interests of everyone, that it was fair and just and _right -_

They’d even built _shrines._

The anguish of the world, of those who had seen their friends disappear into the breeze, those who called out in despair for their husband or wife who had been standing _just there a second ago,_ those who had been powerless to do anything as their babies were stolen _right out of their arms_ , meant nothing to them; these people who believed in an ideology where one being could decide the fate of everyone else, that the torment of so many was worth less than the triumph of others.

Tony had thrown a glass of scotch into the television with a cry of rage and nobody mentioned it again.

Until now.

''T-they were _glad?''_

Tony rubs his face with both hands. ''Jesus, kid.''

''There’s, there’s – '' Peter gestures to his phone, ''all this stuff, tons of articles, videos, I think I saw some memorials? And all these people saying that he did the right thing and – ''

''Listen to me,'' Tony says, dropping down beside him and grabbing the hand that isn’t holding the phone. ''It’s bullshit, all of it. There’s always people who agree with the villain, no matter how insane or dangerous or evil they are.'' he sighs heavily, eyes gazing sadly at Peter’s face. ''Situations like…what happened always bring out both the best and the worst in humanity, kiddo.''

Peter’s face crumples a little and Tony notices the tears clinging to his eyelashes.

''B-but if there was less people…I guess there would be more food, less pollution,'' he gives a little hysterical laugh, ''I mean we are killing the planet because have you seen the oceans? It’s so bad and there would be less crime I guess and if more people get to eat then -''

Tony sees it then.

The kid feels  _guilty._

 _Guilty_ that he came back to life.

 _Guilty_ that he was living in a world where some believed he should have stayed gone.

''Peter,'' Tony cuts across the kid’s rambling and grabs the phone from his other hand so he can throw it onto the couch. ''It was hell. For all those articles you just saw, there’s a million others that will tell you just how beyond devastating it was, kid, I can’t even tell you – ''

Tony takes a deep breath, fighting so desperately to quell the blazing ache of fury and sorrow swirling to life somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

Peter swallows. ''But if the world would be better off – ''

''Not my world.'' Tony snaps, making Peter jump slightly at the force of his words. ''I’d tear the universe to shreds if it meant getting all of this back, if it meant keeping you, do you understand me?''

Surprising words coming from the man who had snapped his fingers and brought the universe back to life. Maybe it makes him the bad guy, no better than those who would seek to destroy everything no matter what the cost. But it’s true, Tony thinks, as he tries to ignore the pure hatred he feels for all those who have spouted their poison into a world that had suffered and lost so much; he may be a hero, and it was an embarrassing fact that he was actually more self-sacrificing than anyone would have ever believed, but when it came down to it, to the very heart of it, if he had to choose?

''Between what’s supposedly good for the rest of the world and you being here, _alive,_ '' Tony speaks the word like a prayer, ''I’d choose you every single time, kid. Every time.''

Peter blinks at him, bottom lip trembling, and squeezes Tony’s hands in an unbearably tight grip but Tony makes no move to pull away.

''Sometimes we gotta be selfish, kiddo,'' Tony says gently. ''Nobody has the right to choose anyone else’s fate for them, not like that. The world will be whatever it’s supposed to be.''

He reaches up to cup Peter’s cheek, thumb lingering under his chin to stop the wobbling of his jaw.

''And you, Underoos, are _exactly_ where and what you are supposed to be.''

A few tears escape as Peter inhales a shaky breath, but he’s smiling tentatively at Tony and Tony’s smiling back.

''Trust me, kid. I saved the universe,'' he manages a wink despite the tears filling his own eyes, ''I know what I’m talking about.''

 

* * *

 

Tony never expected a friendship with Peter Quill, aka Star-Lord, aka one of the most annoying and exasperating idiots he’s ever had the experience of meeting.

He remembers the sense of disbelief he felt during their first encounter; remembers the desperation for Quill to stop being such a pain in the ass and just _listen_ so they don’t all wind up dead; remembers the bitter understanding as he watched Quill’s face twist in anguish in the aftermath of discovering Gamora had been killed.

Remembers the sense of _oh please no don’t go_ as Quill’s sorrowful eyes met his before fading into dust.

After he had woken up and everybody swarmed the room, Quill had practically crushed Tony by falling on top of him and gripping him in a fierce hug. Tony, beyond shocked and overwhelmed, had only been able to cling onto him in return, all coherent thought lost to the _sheer fucking joy_ he felt.

That was the start. Quill and the other Guardians hung around for a long time before departing for the first mission post-war and Tony found himself warming to the man’s presence. He was exasperating, loud, quite inappropriately charming and lived like he’d been plucked out of the eighties and dropped into the modern world (which, as Tony later discovered, is basically what had happened) but he was also warm, funny and overwhelmingly kind in his own way.

Like the way he would be one of the best at cheering Morgan up when she was in a bad mood ( _ooo child things are gonna get easier…)_

Or the times when he would drop into a conversation, all boisterous cheer and wide grins, and find some way of physically touching all those around him, projecting warmth and comfort through the merest brush of an arm or bump of a shoulder ( _and what’s happenin’ over here scoot over will ya)_

And all the ways he’s just as bewilderingly endearing as a kid ( _what do you MEAN there’s a sequel to Return of the Jedi, Parker?!)_

And the moment when Quill discovers one five beers too many evening that he and Tony have more in common than they originally realised and suddenly rambles off a ream of words that Tony can barely keep up with _,_ stuff about moms dying and birth dads being doucebags and space pirates and mixtapes and surrogate teenage children, but somehow Tony understands, understands this man who was as much of a lonely child as Tony had once been, who deep down wanted nothing more than a family of some kind.

That was why Tony helped him find his grandfather.

That was why Morgan and Peter loved the guy so much, because they could see what Tony could see, and why Harley grinned like an idiot whenever he stepped into the house and found Quill waiting to pounce on him in a jubilant hug of greeting.

That was why Tony, with Rhodey’s help, arranged a night out for the man who hadn’t been able to have a drink on earth in all his legal years, on account of being in space doing all manner of madcap things and saving the galaxy once or twice.

That was why Tony tolerated the man using him as a pillow as Happy drove a bunch of them back from the city in the limo, drunk, dozy and playfully disorderly.

''Earth is _awesome!_ '' Quill slurs delightedly into Tony’s jacket. ''Did’ya know that? S’ _awesome.''_

''The man speaks the truth!'' Thor nearly yells in agreement and flops into Quill’s other side, sighing happily as Quill hooks an arm companionably around his shoulders.

Tony snorts, turning his body a bit so he could stretch an arm along the back of the seat, allowing Quill, and Thor by extension, to press against him even more. He cocks an eyebrow at Rocket as he casually tries to get involved, leaning against Tony’s leg as he sits on the floor of the car, fur ruffled and sticking up at all angles. He doesn’t even growl when Tony can’t resist rubbing his ear a few times between his fingers, though he does mumble something that sounds like 'frickin’ idiot,' which just makes the intoxicated grin on Tony’s face even bigger.

''It is a pretty cool place.'' Tony agrees, deliberately ignoring the _look_ Rhodey gives him as Quill seems to snuggle into him even further.

''Well, _duh!_ '' Quill retorts, nudging Tony’s chin with his forehead. ''You’re here, an’ I’m here so o _f course_ it’s cool!'' He sighs happily. ''Hey, d'ya think Gamora will be angry if I get into bed smellin' of martinis?''

Yeah, Tony kinda can’t help but like him.

Quill seizes Tony and pirouettes him across the yard after they arrive home, all grabby hands and strong arms and playfully flirty one-liners that render Tony breathless with laughter and buzzing with gratefulness for such a friendship.

''Can we watch Footloose?''

''Oh fuck _off,_ Lame-Lord!''

 

* * *

 

''Rhodes.''

''Yeah?''

''Rhodey.''

''…Yeah?''

''Platypus.''

''…''

''Sourpatch, honey bear – ''

''Have you been drinki – ''

''Have I ever told you how much I love you?''

''…Okay, wrong question. Not have you but how much?''

''Rhodes.''

''Yes, you have. Once or twice, usually after throwing up all over me.''

''Well, I do.''

‘’Tony – ''

''I’m serious. I do. I really really do. You’re like one of the three, ‘cause the kids technically count as one in this scenario otherwise I just might explode, great loves of my life.''

''…I love you too, you idiot.''

''Now, see, why would you ruin it? We had a perfectly good moment going on and I always get the blame for being the unreasonable one when, let’s face it, it’s been you all these years and to be honest, Rhodes, it’s just plain rude and I for one – ''

''Oh _Jesus,_ I take it back. You are the biggest pain in my ass.''

''Aw, honey bear, aren’t you sweet.''

 

* * *

  

It’s late one rainy night when Peter finally tells Tony about his nightmares.

Tony, unable to sleep, finds Peter sat out on the porch, wrapped up in so tightly in a blanket that only his eyes and his mop of tousled hair are visible. Tony doesn’t say anything as he settles down on the bench, merely accepts one half of the blanket and curls an arm around the kid as Peter leans into him.

For a long while, the only sound is the rain falling heavily around them, beating a repetitive pattern on the rooftiles and bouncing off the puddles on the grass in little furious droplets. The air feels thick with dampness and the scent of wet grass and bark is sweet and strong on the breeze. 

''I remember being trapped in the soul stone.''

Tony feels himself jolt at Peter’s words.

_Oh no._

''That’s what I have nightmares about. I remember and I just…how can it have been five years?'' He whispers in dismay. ''It felt like ages, sure, but…'' he shivers, ''not _that_ long.''

Tony feels his heart cracking, splintering under the weight of Peter’s words, the weight of the memory of five years without him.

''I heard…Q-Quill crying, for ages, and I tried to find him but I couldn’t s-see…'' Peter’s voice trembles awfully. ''He was crying for someone called Yondu.''

Tony flinches as something, a memory perhaps, skitters across his mind in a violent burst of noise. Somehow, he knows this already, he heard it himself, somewhere.

''There was just…so much _noise,_ '' Peter whimpers, lifting away from Tony to curl his fingers into his hair, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. ''So many, I could hear so many, but I couldn’t see and I couldn’t do anything and I tried, I tried calling for you but you w-wouldn’t answer and I – ''

He breaks off as Tony can’t hold back a groan, mind blazing under the assault of memories that don’t seem like his own, words that he doesn’t remember hearing but they’re there just the same. He feels _pain_ and _fear_ seep through him like a toxin in his blood; he can’t grasp the tails of the images and the words that dance through his mind but he feels them, doesn’t understand how or why but he knows it’s just what Peter’s describing –

_(''Mr Stark! Where are you?! Mr St – it’s Peter! Are you there? I’m lost sir I can’t – I can’t s-see or hear it’s too loud I can’t – don’t leave me here ple - MR STARK!!'')_

The words in his head, the sound of Peter, alone, afraid, _screaming,_ fade just as quickly as they come, like they were never really there, nothing more than a haze of a long forgotten dream, like they were never his to hear, and Tony wouldn’t even be sure they were real if it wasn’t for the anguished look on Peter’s face, the tears on his cheeks, the tears Tony knows are falling from his own eyes.

Oh, _god,_ how he wishes he could treat Peter like he does Morgan; swaddle him in uplifting music from children’s films that sing of nothing but the magic of believing and miracles and happiness; chase away the demons with a nightlight and an exciting bedtime story or two or three; have the power to simply _tell_ him that everything will be okay because it is, it will be, and have Peter believe him because there’s no reason to think otherwise –

But he can’t.

Tony Stark saved the world but there was a cost. In exchange for the freedom of the universe, there was a price to pay first, a charge of five years where happiness was free for the taking if one tried hard enough, and Tony had taken it, seized it by both hands and held so tight that it gave him a wife and a daughter and a quiet, simple life, he had tried _so hard –_

And that was the true cost; how does one live with themselves when a part of them is dead?

Not even _truly_ dead, as it turns out, but lingering somewhere in a loveless void, waiting and wondering why nobody is coming for them.

Peter, all alone, wondering why Tony isn’t coming for him.

The thought wrenches Tony’s heart and drops a horrendous weight into his stomach and turns his blood to fire all at once.

He feels a sense of panic, fingers fluttering with the need to fix, mind racing with a frenzied desire to do something, body all but vibrating with the familiar buzz of terror and dread –

He quickly rises to his feet, blanket sliding to pool on the ground, and grabs hold of Peter’s hand.

''Come on, kid.''

''Where are we goi – wait, what are you doing?''

Tony ignores him but doesn’t let go of the kid’s hand as he steps down the stairs onto the wet grass. He lets out a deep, ragged breath as he digs his toes into the drenched earth, feels the water wash over his skin as the rain pours down on him from above. He tilts his head up into it and sighs again as the coolness of it glides over his face and down his neck.

Peter’s fingers fidget against his and Tony turns to look at the kid from where he lingers just on the edge of the stairs.

''Get out here. Come on.''

Peter frowns at him for a moment before he takes a cautious step down, as though he’s afraid that Tony has completely lost his mind. Tony keeps hold of his hand, blinks the rain out of his eyes as Peter finally comes to stand beside him, hair immediately plastering to his forehead and gasping as the chill of the water hits his skin.

''What are we doing?'' he asks.

Tony smiles tiredly at him and gives his fingers another squeeze before turning his face back towards the weeping sky.

''Washing it all away, kiddo.''

 

* * *

 

Once Peter starts sleeping better, the sunshine in their world grows ever brighter.

There’s mischief in the everyday and Tony can’t help but love it.

Even if it’s going to send him into an early grave.

Peter loves to sneak up on him.

It gets to the point where Tony can’t even walk into his own house without being on the lookout for an overgrown spider crawling around somewhere on his ceiling.

He squawks loudly as the kid lands on his shoulders, automatically grabs the feet that dangle by his chest and holds on as Peter leans over into his field of vision and laughs at the look of disgruntled amusement on Tony’s face.

''Hi!''

''Hi yourself, Underoos.''

He resorts to using weapons as a means of deterring the kid with no real success.

''Get down from there! Bad Spider-baby!'' He swings the spatula threateningly up at the kid while Peter sniggers delightedly and ducks just out of shot.

Harley’s just as bad.

Tony side-eyes him suspiciously as he walks all too leisurely around the car they’re working on, tapping a wrench thoughtfully against his palm, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Tony.

Tony’s just be starting to relax when he’s nearly deafened by the loud _pop!_ of a party banger going off behind him, drawing a most unmanly yelp of surprise from him. He glares over his shoulder through the colourful string hanging from his hair as Harley scampers away with triumphant glee.

Morgan only has to grin at him, all pearly white teeth and cheeky dimples, and he knows something’s up.

Strange’s cloak, affectionally dubbed Cloakie by Peter, is a crafty little thing that has no business having that much sass. Tony only has to look at it to feel the attitude oozing off of the velvety folds as it wordlessly mocks him.

And Rhodey, well.

Rhodey’s just an asshole with too much time on his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

They bicker a lot, of course they do, because you can’t change the habit of a lifetime, because it’s just who they are.

Because it’s what families do.

Peter and Harley, placid and easy going as they are, squabble over space and the length of time spent in the bathroom ( _get out Parker I gotta shave before I video-chat with Shuri – no I don’t fancy her you asshole)_

Quill and Rocket regularly tear chunks out of each other, throwing all manner of outlandish and creative insults at one another which have Tony covering a giggling Morgan’s ears and Gamora turning the hose on them ( _I will uptown funk you up you oversized Davy Crockett ha - WHAT THE HELL GAMORA)_

Nat and Clint’s disagreements border on childish disputes and usually wind up with one pinned to the floor, flailing and yelling threats of revenge whilst the other sits atop them, smug and unrepentant ( _goddamnit Nat you’re gonna break my arm!)_

Wilson and Barnes are all sarcastic quips and long-suffering sighs which harmonise well with Steve’s fond scolding; Thor is a constant narration of his appreciation of all manner of earthly things, particularly raw cookie dough and Independence Day which he and Quill have watched beyond an acceptable amount of times ( _Stark do you know this Will Smith fellow he is quite amusing I wish to meet him and exchange stories of intergalactic battles)_ and Fury’s sardonic comments are as commonplace in the kitchen as the multiple vases of sunflowers that decorate nearly every surface.

Tony loves the noise, the regular racket and quite bizarre hullabaloo, but he savours the quiet moments too; calm evenings out on the porch with Rhodey and Happy, dozing off beside Morgan in the afternoons in her tent, peaceful days tinkering with Harley in the garage, stretching out on one end of the couch with Peter tucked up on the other, toes brushing under a blanket and chatting sleepily as the music in the final scene of The Empire Strikes Back swells to a familiar and emotional crescendo in the background; lazy mornings with Pepper where they do nothing but kiss languidly under the covers while the birds twitter their morning song outside the window.

It’s the sound of living, all of it, and it’s a sound that he never tires of.  

 

* * *

 

''Peter called me mom.''

Tony looks up and is alarmed to see the shine of tears appearing in May’s eyes. At his startled glance, she laughs weakly and rubs a hand across her face.

''I know, stupid, right?''

She looks down at where Peter lays on a bed between them, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that syncs up perfectly with the steady beeping noise of the monitor hooked up to him. It’s been well over a year since he sustained an injury in the act of duty, so Tony can’t say he’s surprised; they were well overdue for this, he reckons. A vicious blow to the head, a broken leg and one very upset and furious head of security later, here they are, maintaining a vigil by the bedside of the unconscious teenager who is expected to wake at any moment.

Any moment sure as hell feels like the longest time to Tony.

''It’s not the first time,'' she says after a little while. ''He would say it on occasion when he was younger, in that little uncertain voice of his, you know the one,'' she huffs out a laugh and Tony nods, knowing exactly what she means. ''It was almost like he was testing it out, seeing how it sounded, seeing how I would react…''

She takes a deep jerky breath and reaches up to push her fingers through Peter’s messy hair.

''Since he came back, he’s been doing it more and more.'' She gives a small shrug. ''Like that’s how he wants it to be now. But then a lot of the time, most of the time, I’m just regular May.''

Tony nods again, quite unable to think of anything to say.

''Is it awful of me?'' May whispers after a moment. ''To be happy about it? I’ve been in his life so much longer than his parents ever were and that’s _wrong_ , so wrong and he was just so young…'' she sniffs wetly. ''If they hadn’t died, then none of this,'' she makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, ''would exist and I can’t bear the thought of it. How terrible is that?''

Tony swallows, feeling knots start to twist in his stomach and the suddenly loud beating sound of his heart somewhere in his ears.

If May thought that made her awful, what the hell did that make him? She’d always been in Peter’s life, had more than earnt her place, was so beyond deserving of the boundless love Peter felt towards her, but him?

May’s hand seizing hold of his from where it rests upon Peter’s chest makes him jump. Her eyes are wet but also alight with anger now, dark and intense as they stare fiercely at him.

''Don’t you dare, Tony Stark.'' The displeasure in her voice makes him want to squirm. He’s tangled with those so much more formidable and frightening than May Parker in his time, but suddenly she seems like the scariest person imaginable. ''Don’t belittle or doubt what you two have.''

Tony wonders when she learnt to read him so well. He supposes it was sometime in the five-year crack in time where they would sit and share their grief together, when May would show him pictures of a younger bespectacled and metal-mouthed Peter and Tony would tell her stories of all the ridiculous things they would get up to the in the lab together. She came to the wedding, wore a red and blue dress in honour of the boy who should have had a front row seat and Tony knew, before he even dared to believe that Peter could be brought back to them, that there would never be a life without May Parker ever again.

''You – '' he clears his suddenly dry throat, ''you’ve been there all his life and I – ''

'' – Have done more for him in the space of a few years than most people could do in a lifetime.'' May insists, squeezing his fingers. ''And I am so grateful for all of it, for _you,_ and that’s coming from someone who thought you were an asshole for quite a long while.''

Tony’s snorts and May giggles through the tears falling down her cheeks.

''Did he…'' Tony pauses uncertainly for a moment. ''Did he ever call Ben dad?''

 ''No,'' May says with a fond, melancholy smile. ''Ben and Peter were as close as close can be, but it just wasn’t like that between them. It’s hard to explain,'' she pauses, brow crinkling as she tries to find the words. ''I think Ben was so conscious of preserving the memory of his brother that he made sure that he would never do anything that could be considered as disrespectful to his memory and I guess, to him, that included playing the role of doting uncle and nothing more.''

There must be a certain kind of look on Tony’s face because suddenly she’s squeezing his hand again.

''That isn’t what’s happening here, Tony.'' She gestures between him and Peter with her other hand. ''Ben did everything right, loved Peter with everything he had, and Peter loved him just as much, but he just wasn’t his dad. Nobody is stepping on anybody’s toes here.''

''He still calls me Tony, most of the time.'' Tony says quickly. ''It’s only rarely that he calls me…that,'' Tony adds lamely with a swirl of his hand at the last word.

''And I’m still May.'' She grips his hand a little tighter. ''But I guess that doesn’t mean we can’t be whatever else he needs us to be, right?''

Tony looks down at Peter’s face, so peaceful despite the rather intense conversation happening above him, and nods almost frantically.

''And at this point, he’s as much yours as he is mine, don’t you think?'' May adds gently.

Tony sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. It’s nothing new, of course it’s not, because he long ago admitted to himself just how much this kid meant to him. This kid who had changed his life irrevocably without the two of them realising it until it was too late, and then it wasn’t too late and now here they are. Tony hates remembering a life without Peter because it just doesn’t make sense, reminds him of a time where his soul was made up of more darkness than light, reminds him that he used to be someone who could never ever be worthy of the love of someone as _good_ as Peter Parker.

But now, he knows he is, can actually believe he is. And yet, Tony still finds himself gripping May’s fingers with some force, needing something to ground him as the significance of May’s words, of May actually _telling_ him that he is worthy, pull him apart and put him back together again in a single flash of a moment.

''You risked everything to help get him back,'' May says, tears giving way to a smile that makes her look so much like the younger version of herself that Tony has seen in old photographs. ''If that’s not a dad, then I don’t know what is.''

He regards her for another moment before a watery smile crosses his tired face.

''Mom suits you,'' he tells her and she beams at him.

They stay there together, a mother and a father in all but blood, and wait until Peter’s eyes flicker open with a confused groan and the world rights itself once more.

 

* * *

 

Tony has to restrain himself as the kid steps in through the door of the apartment, coat slick and face damp with rain. He has a hand buried under his jacket and Tony instantly knows that he’s holding the letter under there.

May barely finishes uttering a greeting from where she’s standing behind him with Pepper before Tony is crowding into the kid’s space.

''Did you open it yet?'' He points emphatically at Peter’s coat. ''Did you?''

''Give him a chance, Tony,'' Pepper scolds, but there’s a nervousness in her voice too.

Peter slowly withdraws the envelope. It’s still sealed, spattered with a couple of raindrops. Tony stares at it, feels his breath hitch much like it did when he had been the one holding his own envelope, perched on the precarious edge of his future with nothing but high expectations and premature disappointment backing him in the form of a father who just didn’t care enough.

Tony will be damned thrice over if he lets Peter feel like he did.

He takes a step back, clenches his hands into his fists by his side and tries to school his face into something comforting and supportive (whatever the hell that looks like) as Peter finally meets his gaze.

No words pass between them as they stare at each other. They’ve hashed the subject out to death and this is the culmination of arduous applications, admissions tests, showcases, recommendation letters and many sleepless nights worrying over everything. Tony knows that the kid is trying to conceal his fear but Tony sees the trepidation in his shimmering eyes and manages to nod encouragingly at him.

As Peter’s fingers finally curl around the seal, Tony suddenly throws out a hand to stop him.

''Remember what we talked about, kiddo, yeah?''

It hadn’t taken long for Peter to become completely overwhelmed by it all, to worry over what kind of comforter he’d have to buy, if his roommates would like him, how he’d afford to eat as much as he needed, to frantically ask Tony who would look after Queens if Spider-Man wasn’t there anymore, to nearly cry over the thought of being away from home and Tony had wasted in no time in taking out every single concern with well-aimed words of comfort and soothing hugs, and maybe the odd night or two curled up on the couch together.

''What if I don’t get in?'' Peter had asked on one such night, face buried against Tony’s shoulder and Tony’s fingers carding through his hair.

''You will.''

''But what if I don’t?''

''Then screw ‘em,'' Tony had said instantly, ''you’ll do something else. There’s always a place for you at Stark Industries – you’ll be the boss before you know it. Though, for my safety if nothing else, maybe wait for Pepper to retire first.''

The last few words, whispered conspiratorially, had made the kid smile for the briefest of moments.

''You…you wouldn’t be disappointed?''

''In you?'' Tony had snorted and wrapped Peter up in an even firmer hug. ''Not in a million years.''

And he meant it, _means it,_ thinks it over and over in his head as the ripping of the envelope cuts through the silence of the apartment like a knife. Tony hears May and Pepper shuffle behind him, knows that by now they’re probably clutching a part of each other, but doesn’t look away from Peter as the kid slowly slides the letter out from the envelope and unfolds it, eyes flickering rapidly from side to side as he reads the words typed on it.

The seconds drag by, and Tony realises that it’s taking too long, w _ay_ too long, and feels his chest start to ache for the kid, arms already desperate to hold him.

He actually jolts as Peter’s eyes suddenly snap up to look at him and there’s a horrendously elongated pause, stretching on and on and Tony can’t bear it any longer –

Then Peter grins.

''I got in.''

Tony’s heart stops for a second before it practically explodes in his chest.

''You got in?!'' Tony yells, taking a staggered step forward, arms already reaching out. 

''I got in!''

Then Peter’s meeting him in the middle and Tony has the boy ensnared in a crushing hug and Pepper and May are screaming and wrapping their arms around them so that the four of them are squashed together in a chaotic, loud tangle. Tony presses kiss after kiss into Peter’s damp hair, face threatening to split open from the grin on his face as he feels Peter laughing joyfully into his neck. Then May and Peter are hugging each other fiercely and then Peter’s phone is ringing and Tony’s phone is ringing and too many familiar faces fight for dominance on the screens as they demand to know what’s happening before the speakers are crackling under the force of their boisterous and jubilant yells of congratulations.

Then May is hurrying to grab the champagne and Pepper is reading the letter aloud to the many keen listeners on the phones and Peter, once again locked in Tony’s arms, is smiling up at him with eyes as bright as starlight and a face so full of youth and excitement that Tony finds the love flowing through him all too overwhelming.

''I’m so proud of you, kid.'' He whispers raggedly, pulling Peter close again to sneak another kiss into his hair.

Peter’s shoulders lift and drop with a happy sigh and as he murmurs a soft thank you into Tony’s collarbone, Tony finds himself thanking his lucky stars all over again.

 

* * *

 

Tony does and sees things that he never used to.

He accepts Steve’s offer of a ride on his motorcycle on lazy summer afternoons, curls his arms around Steve’s waist as they cruise through the winding forest roads, air whipping around them in a way that makes Tony feel weightless. He falls asleep sometimes, face pressed into the strong expanse of muscle between Steve’s shoulders, and always rolls his eyes at the fond grin his friend gives him when they return home. Their friendship is warm and easy now, the affection between them bordering on embarrassing for all the shoulder brushes and one-armed hugs they seem to share these days. Never in his wildest dreams did Tony ever think he’d wind up calling Captain America – _Steve Rogers –_ one of the greatest friends he’s ever had.

Food is a thing. Not that Tony didn’t eat much before (Pepper would argue otherwise) but he’s never eaten as much as he does these days. He and Peter will stop at roadside food vans and lean against his car while they devour deliciously greasy hot dogs smothered in mustard; Harley splits sandwiches with him as they discuss modifications to their latest project and Rhodey will hold the last of the M&M’s out of his reach and only half-heartedly fight back when Tony tackles him to the floor. Happy, much to Peter’s surprise, is actually something of a food connoisseur, and takes it upon himself to educate the teenager in the ways of eating oysters and makes grilled cheese sandwiches so fantastic that Tony can only laugh knowingly as the kid stares at him with bulging cheeks and eyes sparkling with amazement. 

Movie nights aren’t exactly new, but the tangled sea of bodies that comes with it certainly is. Sometimes it’ll just be him and Peter and sometimes Morgan and Pepper curled up together, maybe Harley and Nebula if they’re visiting, but more often than not, there’s not a single inch of space to be seen as everyone piles in for what is essentially one gigantic cuddle. Even the more reluctant of snugglers like Sam and Bucky can’t help themselves and Tony usually finds himself at the centre of it all, multiple heads and bodies leaning on him whilst bowls of popcorn are passed around, the soft hush of voices whispering loudly over the movie that nobody has really been watching properly. To this day, Tony still has no idea what happens in the latest Jurassic Park movie.

He goes to galas with Pepper (as her date not the other way around) where all he has to do is watch his wife be amazing and steal a couple of dances with her before they sneak off home. He and Bruce cook together, digging out old family recipes and creating all manner of madness and mess in the kitchen. He does yoga with Nat in the mornings sometimes and isn’t that just ridiculous. Happy and May invite Tony and Pepper out regularly to dinner, leaving a secretly pleased but pretending to be all kinds of mortified Peter to watch Morgan.

Nap time is also a thing, and not just for Morgan.

It confuses the hell out of Tony at first. It isn’t so much the napping because, hey, he doesn’t say no to the odd siesta or two these days, especially when he dozes off in Morgan’s tent on a warm afternoon.

No, it’s the fact that basically everybody has developed the ability to just drop and sleep the second Morgan goes down.

He finds Thor snoozing under the kitchen table after nearly tripping over the man’s legs. Steve and Bucky doze with their backs pressed together in a move long remembered from being in the trenches, no doubt. He sees Bruce stretched out on the dock one afternoon, snoring loudly enough to disturb the nearby birds. Rhodey will drift off in one of the chairs on the porch, head tilted back and mouth slightly open, sometimes with Carol nestled into his side. He finds Harley asleep underneath the fixer upper in the garage, sprawled out on the skateboard he uses as a creeper, and eases the kid out slowly just for his own peace of mind. He doesn’t even want to know how the hell Clint can sleep in a tree like he does.

And then there’s Peter, unbearably young and innocent looking all curled up under his Iron Man blanket on the couch, and surprisingly the only one who seems to nap in a normal place. Most of the time anyway. Tony sits with him on most of these occasions, squeezing onto the edge of the couch and pulling the kid’s feet onto his lap, gently rubbing the soles in a way that somehow soothes him into sleep as well.

He always wakes with Peter’s head resting on his legs and Pepper smiling softly down at them.

 

* * *

 

''Going somewhere, Stark?''

Tony pauses in extracting himself from his makeshift hospital bed and looks over at where Clint is standing in the doorway. Two weeks of bedrest and he’s beyond desperate to get out of the room; his arm burns with a deep, aching pain and trembles horribly and his body feels bone-weary and fragile, but he just needs to _move._ It’s barely light outside so he figured he’d be able to slip outside unnoticed for a few minutes.

He forgot to factor in the typically early riser that is Clint I enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn because I’m crazy Barton.

''Don’t just stand there, Legolas.'' Tony’s voice sounds stronger than he feels. ''Get over here and help me.''

They stare at each other for less than a minute before the archer smirks conspiratorially at him and whisks him out the room and down the stairs.  

''Oh, you seriously need a shower, man.''

''Bite me, Katniss.''

He inhales his first taste of fresh air in what feels like forever as they step outside, sighing deeply with a smile. Clint snorts at his actions but the firm squeeze from the hand on his shoulder tells him that his friend gets it.

''Are you supposed to be out of bed?''

They pause in their movements to look at Steve, standing behind them with folded arms and a raised eyebrow.

''Ah, come on, Cap.'' Tony says in his smoothest voice. ''Surely you expected this to happen at some point?''

''I did,'' Steve agrees and smiles, ''though I expected you to do it a week ago. You’re getting slow, Tony.''

''Rude.'' Tony grouses but accepts the helping hand on his back with a smile of his own.

They settle on the dock, feet dangling off the edge and bare toes brushing the sparkling surface of the water, and it isn’t long before Nat, Thor and Bruce join them.

''It is so good to see you out of bed, my friend,'' Thor says warmly, hugging Tony as gently as he’s able, which is still enough to make Tony groan through his laughter.

''Even if you do smell like Clint’s gym bag.'' Nat teases.

''Hey, be nice to me,'' Tony moans. ''I’m in pain and my wife is a tyrant who makes me eat things like muesli and confiscates my coffee.''

''How the hell are you getting coffee in the first place?'' Bruce asks disapprovingly.

''I bet it’s Peter,'' Nat says knowingly.

''Don’t be spreading such scandalous rumours, Romanoff,'' Tony admonishes, unable to keep the grin off his face.

They fall into a companionable silence, leaning into one another as they watch the morning sun rise above the trees, and Tony feels such an immeasurable and infinite sense of relief, gratitude and love for them all in that moment that he nearly buckles under it.

But they’re there, shoulders and arms and sides pressing against him, protecting him, holding him up like they have for so long.

Like they always will.

 

* * *

 

He and Clint do dad things together. Tony isn’t sure what that even _means_ but it usually involves him and Clint being surrounded by a swarm of children and being all but bullied into some sort of misadventure, so he guesses it must be that. From sharing wide-eyed looks of sympathy as the recognisable squeals of small children on a sugar-high fill the air to trying to outdo each other as they race boats on the lake whilst the kids cheer from the shallows, it’s all a bit new but Tony is grateful for the presence of yet another person who can understand the quite frankly frightening extent of how much love he feels for the younger people in his life.

So they hang out on the regular, sometimes with all the kids, sometimes with only a few, and sometimes it’s the two of them and Scott on occasion, sharing the tales that only dads can, and plotting all the ways that they’ll have their revenge as the kids grow older while they just simply grow old.

They have days out too. Little trips to the city, going to the movies and the zoo; they even go to a carnival where Morgan practically holds Tony hostage on the Ferris wheel and Peter makes him ride a horrendously fast rollercoaster that flips upside down too many times. After Harley throws up a rather impressive amount of half-digested churros onto Tony’s feet, he swears that he’s never going anywhere with Clint ever again.

A few weeks into the summer, Clint strolls into the kitchen, throws an empty holdall at Tony’s feet and says ''Pack your bags, Stark. We’re going on vacation.''

Tony doesn’t even get the chance to protest and swear at the man before Morgan runs past with an excited screech of ''Vacaaaation!'' and effectively seals his doom.

He looks over at Pepper who just smiles all too pleasantly at him. ''I think it’s a great idea. Laura is going to spend the weekend here with me while you two and the kids go off and have fun.''

''And Hope too,'' Clint adds helpfully as he heads back out the door. ''Girls weekend!'' he teases in a falsetto voice as Pepper playfully scowls at him.

''Girls weeke – what even is that?'' Tony demands, looking at Pepper suspiciously.

''Oh, you know, we’ll drink wine and do each other’s nails and wear face masks and say all sort of scandalous things about our husbands.'' Pepper says in a saccharine tone.

Tony stares at her for a moment. ''You’re kidding, right? You are kidding. I know you are. Because! Ah ha ha, I know that you don’t even use face masks!'' He nearly yells, pointing triumphantly at her.

Pepper laughs at his discomfort and kisses him on his jabbering mouth. ''Have fun, honey.''

It doesn’t take long to get everybody packed and ready, mainly because everybody is moving with a ridiculously fast-paced that only comes from the excitement of going on an adventure, and it’s only when Tony strolls out the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder that he notices Nebula sat rigidly on the porch without a bag in sight, watching Barton’s kids on the yard with thoughtful dark eyes.

''Whatcha waiting for, Bluebell?'' Tony asks softly.

She doesn’t reply but Tony can see a tension in her shoulders, one that has been absent for so long, and the mask on her face that is trying so hard to be blank but is failing miserably, revealing the sad twist of rejection on her downturned lips.

''Hey,'' he croons. ''You know you’re coming too, right?''

She turns to look at him so fast that it’s a wonder her neck doesn’t snap; he smiles gently at her surprised expression and jerks his head over at Clint who is trying to shepherd his kids into some sense of calmness.

''C’mon, Nebs. I need you to protect me from that pain in the ass.''

He’s saying it to ease her discomfort, and he knows she knows it too, but she’s smiling a little bit now and moves towards the guest house like she’s trying not to hurry. Tony gives her a knowing grin when she appears beside him with a bag less than three minutes later.

They fly to New Asgard, collecting Scott and Cassie on the way, and spend a long weekend fishing, sleeping in late and hunting for shellfish in the rockpools. The priceless look on Nebula’s face as she holds up an impressively large crab is one that Tony will forever remember fondly, and Peter’s guttural groan as he tries lobster for the first time is something else. Dinners consist of warm hearty stews that have the younger children dozing off in front of the fire well before their bedtime and breakfast brings the most delicious pancakes Tony has ever eaten in his life, courtesy of the Queen of New Asgard herself. Harley is hilariously enamoured with the fierce warrior and glares at Tony when the man wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at him over the kitchen table.

Thor arrives on the second day, much to the delight of the local Asgardians, and spends the afternoon teaching the older kids to surf in the chilly ocean while Tony takes Nebula and Morgan for a walk along the windy cliffs. Nebula is a firm favourite in Morgan’s life and Tony finds himself hanging back a little to watch them walking hand in hand through the long grass together. On the final evening, Clint, Tony, Thor and Scott relax together in the local tavern, warmth and camaraderie strong in the atmosphere as they share a few drinks and stumble merrily home in the early hours.

It’s the best vacation Tony has ever had.

 

* * *

 

It’s a month after Peter’s seventeenth birthday when Tony glances at him over dinner and notices a difference.

He can’t quite put his finger on it; his hair is the same unruly mess it usually is, his eyes are as wide and innocent as ever, he isn’t wearing any new clothes and there’s no change in his height. He seems happy and content, more relaxed than Tony can remember seeing him for a while.

''How’s school, kiddo?'' he asks the next morning at breakfast.

''Good,'' Peter gives him a sleepy smile over his cereal.

Not that, then.

''Ned all good?'' he says as they sit outside with Morgan for lunch.

''Yeah, he’s great, really excited ‘cause he got the new Star Wars Lego set and oh man, he sent me pictures it’s so awesome - ''

Not that either.

''Been on any dates with MJ lately?'' he asks, stealing a glance over at the kid as they tinker with the Spider-Man suit together.

Peter immediately goes still and fumbles with the tablet in his hand, nearly dropping it.

''Uh y-yeah, a couple.''

An expression passes over his face and Tony pauses, turning to look at the boy properly, eyes narrowing as a secretive smile pulls at Peter’s mouth.   

Ohhh, Tony knows _that_ look.

He smacks the wrench he’s holding against the table and can’t help the wild laugh that escapes him. Peter jumps about three feet in the air at the sound and turns to stare at him in shock.

''You!'' Tony points the wrench at him, face already aching from the grin upon it. ''You had sex, didn’t you?''

Peter looks at him in horror, face turning a horrendous shade of red, and Tony knows he’s right on the money.

''Well, I’ll be damned! Peter Parker!'' he exclaims, giddy with glee as Peter continues to turn redder by the second. ''What would the world say if they knew what Spider-Man was getting up to behind closed doors?''

He instantly feels bad as Peter looks down in utter embarrassment. ''I’m teasing, kiddo. Hell, you waited a hell of a lot longer than I did, that’s for sure.''

''Oh, that’s just gross! I don’t wanna know that!'' Peter moans and buries his face in his hands.

Tony snorts and wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders. He knew that May, as only a nurse could, had given Peter 'the talk' back when he first hit puberty; he knew this because May had fondly told him the story before asking him to have another chat with Peter not long after the kid took MJ to the winter dance. Man to man, she had said.

It had been equally mortifying and hilarious for both of them. It was one thing to talk about consent and respect and what not, things which Tony knew were practically ingrained in Peter’s DNA, but it was another thing entirely to check if the kid knew how to use condoms. Thankfully, for both their sakes, he did.

''And?'' He gives Peter a little jostle. ''Do you feel like a man now?'' His lowers his voice to a gravelly tone on the word ‘man’ and chuckles as Peter rolls his eyes and gently headbutts his shoulder.

''Have I ever told you that you suck? Because you totally do.''

''Lies and slander.''

Peter laughs and Tony feels a strange sort of sadness sweep over him then, bittersweet and heavy. This was part of being a teenager, living a life, just like everybody else. But it was also time slipping away far too rapidly, taking away the kid who still needs guidance and hugs and someone to chase the demons away and ushering in the soon to be man who will make his own decisions and fight his own battles.

There’s a sharp, funny twinge in his heart as he’s reminded all too greatly of just how quickly Peter’s growing up.

''Can we watch Star Wars with ice cream later?''

Tony feels a bit wobbly and huffs out a laugh into Peter’s hair.

Well, maybe not _that_ quickly.

''Sure we can, Spider-baby, sure we can.''

 

* * *

 

''Hello, is that Mr Stark?''

''This is he.''

''This is Principal Spooner. I know this is rather short notice but I was wondering if you would be able to come in for a meeting after school this afternoon?''

''Regarding?''

''Well, as you know we met recently to discuss the issues that Morgan has been having with some of the other pupils in her class and – ''

''Are they picking on her again? If they are – ''

''No no, Mr Stark. Per our meeting last week, the issue has been dealt with, which is why I wanted to invite you in again to discuss the matter further as we, meaning myself and Morgan’s teacher, thought you and Mrs Stark had been satisfied with the outcome of the situation.''

''Yes, we were…''

''Then as you can imagine, we were most concerned and confused by the appearance of Spider-Man at the school shortly after you dropped Morgan off this morning.''

''…I’m sorry, did you say Spider-Man?''

''Yes, Mr Stark. The children were most delighted by him, as you can imagine.''

''Yeah, he’s, uh, always been a hit with kids – what did he want, exactly?''

''Oh, he was most polite. He said that he was there to make sure that Morgan wasn’t having any trouble. He had a quick chat with her, performed some tricks at the request of some of the younger children and then left.''

''…I see…''

''Mr Stark, I fail to see what’s so funny – ''

''I’m sorry, I am, it’s just - how has Morgan been today?''

''She – she’s been having a very good day as far as I am aware.''

''Then I don’t really think a meeting is necessary, do you?''

''With all due respect, Mr Stark, myself and my staff are fully qualified to handle instances of bullying. The intervention of Spider-Man in such a minor issue – ''

''I’d hardly call four other kids kicking and calling my daughter names a minor issue, would you?''

''That isn’t what I meant – ''

''As far as I’m concerned, as long as Morgan is happy at school, there’s no issue, and if the appearance of an Avenger, a hero who saved the world might I add, plays a part in that then so be it.''

''Mr Stark – ''

''And it’s better that Spider-Man make an appearance than, oh, say, someone like Thor, if you know what I mean. Guy gets a bit sparky when he’s not happy.''

''…Thank you for your time, Mr Stark.''

''No, thank _you,_ Principal Spooner.''

 

* * *

 

''Look out!''

Wheels skid furiously across the ground.

''You need to go faster! They’re right on our tail!''

The wind whistles as movement cuts through it with speed.

''I’m trying I’m try – hold on!''

Dirt shoots into the air as a corner is rounded.

''Look, over there!''

A cluster of people come into view.

''I see 'em – ''

Hands grip the side of a wagon tightly.

''Faster!!''

The sound of someone mimicking a repulsor is heard.  

''Iron Man, hurry up!''

Tony grins.

''Look alive, people!''

Multiple heads swivel in their direction.

 _''Tony?!_ ''

Steve gapes at him.

''Outta the way, Capsicle!''

Tony curls his hands around the girl sat in front of him in the speeding wagon.

''Man, what are you – oh shit!''

Sam’s eyes widen as he sees Tony stand.

''Go, Iron Girl, go!''

Morgan hurtles through the air with a loud squeal of laughter.

''Catch me, Uncle Thor!''

The unsuspecting demigod immediately holds out his hands before he’s even fully realised what’s happening.  

''Tiny Stark!''

Tony carries on going.

''Heads up, Barton!''

The archer tries to stumble out of the way.

''No wait I’m holding booze – ''

The tankard of beer goes flying, along with Tony, Clint and the red wagon that had been previously been serving as a makeshift rocket ship until that moment. Steve catches the thing before it can hit the ground, whilst Clint releases a flurry of impressive swear words as Tony lands heavily on top of him.

Morgan’s delighted laughter is muffled inside the Iron Man mask she’s wearing and she curls an arm happily around Thor’s broad neck. The god of thunder automatically plants a kiss on the top of the helmet and smiles warmly at her.

''What the hell were you doing?'' Steve questions as he kneels beside the two men on the floor.

Clint can only wheeze incoherently at him. Tony, wearing a cheap plastic version of his own mask, flips it up to grin brightly up at Steve.

''It’s called _playing,_ Rogers. You should try it sometime.''

''You just threw your daughter at Thor like a dart.''

''She loves it,'' Tony insists. ''Don’t you, Iron Girl?''

''Yeah!'' Morgan cheers, scrabbling down from Thor’s hold to rush over to her father. ''Daddy’s the best at playing!''

''Y’hear that?'' Tony’s grin is equal parts smug and pleased. ''I’m the best.''

''Man, you gotta get off me,'' Clint groans from beneath him.

''Sorry, no can do, Katniss.''

''Why…'' Clint snarls breathlessly, ''not?''

Rhodey appears then and looks down at Tony with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

''You threw your back out, didn’t you?''

''…Maybe.''

''I’ll get the doctor kit!'' Morgan shouts and runs towards the house to search for her toy stethoscope and thermometer.

''Thanks, baby!'' Tony shouts before seizing hold of Steve’s left pant leg. ‘’Get Pepper. She knows where the good drugs are. I’ll give you whatever you want, car, money, you like money right? Hell I’ll even hug you, just tell her to bring the drugs.''

Steve smiles endearingly at him before rolling his eyes and jogging after Morgan.

''…Seriously, is nobody gonna get him off me?''

 

* * *

 

No, Tony never tells and never fully remembers all of what he saw and felt when he snapped his fingers, save for a few moments here and there that fade away as quickly as a wisp of cloud on the wind.

Because there’s no memory that can outmatch what he has now.

Each version of Tony Stark that resides somewhere in the kaleidoscope of the cosmos faces their fate in one way or another; some flourish and some fail, some adore and some hate, some win and some lose.

Some make it and some don’t.  

But _this_ Tony Stark? Oh, he does so much more than that.

He breaks the Stark cycle.

He triumphs.

He loves _._

He _lives._

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Tony seeing everything but not remembering it all struck me late one night and it just wouldn't let go. I also particularly loved the idea of people being trapped in the soul stone, though it's not something I actually believe in terms of the canon in the films but wanted to use it here as I think it's quite a powerful story idea. Likewise with Peter sometimes calling May and Tony mom and dad, I know it's slushy and unrealistic but I just couldn't help it so I hope it comes across well and not like I've just stomped all over Uncle Ben haha because that's not my intention! 
> 
> Tony and Quill being besties gives me the fuzzies. 
> 
> Google told me that the age of consent in NYC is 17, hence why I haven't marked the reference to Peter having sex as underage but if I'm wrong PLEASE correct me! I just know Tony would be such a wind up to that poor kid about such a thing haha. 
> 
> Also, does anyone else picture Morgan being a bit like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch or is that just me? Tony Stark is her father so she's bound to be quirky and I'm so on board for it especially if it means them doing silly things together at the expense of everyone else's sanity - Tony throwing her at Thor knowing full well he'll catch her but will cause everyone else to have a heart attack is just gold to me. 
> 
> The thing about Happy taking Peter out for oysters is a direct reference to the trailer for the new series with Jon Favreau where he's with RDJ and Tom Holland eating seafood - I need to see it soon!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one - we all know that the third part of a series isn't usually (though there are exceptions) as good as the first one but I still hope you liked it! Please let me know your thoughts :)


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